


Sticks and stones break more than bones

by lunaemoth



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:20:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25066825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunaemoth/pseuds/lunaemoth
Summary: In a world where Corvo Attano wasn't sent to Dunwall, he's the favorite bodyguard of the Duke Theodanis Abele. When he's finally sent to Dunwall, it's to protect the Duke's sons. There, he saves a young girl named Deirdre, but the trip will cost him everything.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 29





	Sticks and stones break more than bones

**Author's Note:**

> Yet again, an old thing I found in my drafts. This one was started after I played Death of the Outsider, in an attempt to 'fix' Deirdre and Billie's fate. Unfortunately, I never managed to finish it properly.
> 
> NB: I'm French, English isn't my native language, and this isn't betaed so you can expect some mistakes. If anything bothers you please send me a nice comment with the correction.

Corvo knew, in the split second he made his decision (there wasn’t much to decide, it was mostly instinct, how could he do anything else?), that this would hurt. His gloved hand stopped the stick a centimeter away from the girl’s skull. The back of Corvo’s hand knocked against her red hair heavily, but the sharp metal grip didn’t break her weak bone. It broke his, and the snap resounded loudly in the square, louder than Corvo’s grunt of pain. 

A shocked silence followed.

Radanis Abele let go of his walking stick, shocked by the sudden appearance and intervention of his bodyguard. His older brother, Luca, finally stopped insulting the two teenagers whose only crime had been to brush against the sons of the Duke of Serkonos visiting Dunwall.

The guards who had seized the two girls on the nobles’ orders, the people who had stopped to watch the commotion, and the girls themselves were all staring at him like he had done something incredibly unexpected.

Corvo took the stick with his uninjured hand and gave it back to Radanis, who accepted it with shaking fingers. Slowly, sparing his broken hand by folding it behind his back, Corvo stood to attention, as if it was the most natural thing and not a blatant way to put himself between the girls and the noble young men.

“Sirs, do not let this incident delay your lunch. I’ll handle it,” he offered politely. 

“We were handling it just fine,” Luca protested, but his irritation came from the fact that he knew he had already lost his dominance over his brother. 

Radanis couldn’t meet Corvo’s eyes knowing he had hurt him, and he hastened to agree: “Corvo is right, brother. We shouldn’t make the Boyles wait. It would be rude. W-we should go.”

He nodded at Corvo and walked away without a look back. With a grunt of annoyance and a glare for Corvo, Luca followed, knowing that another protest wouldn’t be in his favor. Nonetheless, he added over his shoulder: “Make them pay.”

“Captain?” One of the members of the Grand Guard of Serkonos asked Corvo.

He sent her and the rest of his team to follow their charges with a tilt of his head.

Only the City Watch guards were left, and a Lieutenant who had previously introduced himself as Geoff Curnow stepped forward to ask: “Sir? How is your hand?”

“On fire, Lieutenant,” Corvo replied, not without humor. He glanced at the crowd who had gathered and ordered: “Move along, citizens, there won’t be anything else to see.”

When they had some more privacy, he turned to look more closely at the girls. He didn’t give them more than sixteen years old, both thin and dirty. The redhead who had brushed against Radanis, leading to doubts of attempted theft, was shaking in fear but holding herself together bravely, while her friend, with much darker skin and hair, stared at Corvo defiantly. 

“What are your names?” 

“I’m Billie, and she’s Deirdre,” the darker one replied after a short hesitation.

“I suppose you know your way around Dunwall. Any idea where I can find painkillers around here?”

They exchanged a hesitant look, but Billie replied: “There is an apothecary two streets away.”

“The guards and I can’t leave,” Corvo commented as he pulled several coins from an inside pocket. “One of you can go fetch some painkillers for me while the other stay. Once I have them, you’re both free to go.”

“That’s it?” Billie asked doubtfully. “Your boss said you have to make us pay.”

“I happen to disagree with the  _ son  _ of my boss,” he replied with a slight shrug.

“No-one disagrees with nobles without paying the price,” the teenager pointed out, obstinate in her point of view. 

“And so my name should be ‘no-one’ from now on. Too bad, I think Corvo Attano fits me better.”

Lieutenant Curnow snorted at the jest, and the guards chuckled, relaxing their grip on the girls. The teenagers didn’t seem to appreciate the humor, however, and Corvo replied more seriously and kindly:

“I already paid the price, Billie. I have to finish a full shift with a broken hand. Bad humor is the only thing keeping me distracted. So, those painkillers? I need them. Which one of you is going to fetch them?”

They exchanged another look and Billie told her friend: “You go. I stay.”

“Are you sure?” Deirdre murmured. At her friend’s nod, she reached for the money with trembling fingers.

Corvo dropped the coins in her hand to spare her the contact, and he nodded to the guard to let her go. After a look back at her friend, she sprinted away.

“That’s risky, Captain,” a guard pointed out, “she might keep the money and run away.”

“She won’t,” Billie denied fiercely, glaring at the man for suggesting it. 

“Yeah, those are clearly thick as thieves. She might give you some poison rather than painkillers though,” another guard commented.

“She won’t!” Billie denied more vehemently, her hands closed in fists.

“Easy, everyone,” Lieutenant Curnow stepped in. “Let’s not speculate. Captain, may I see your hand? I have some basic medical knowledge.”

“Just don’t make me faint,” Corvo joked as he offered his left hand. It was flexed, as straightening his fingers hurt. 

“I… probably shouldn’t remove your glove,” Curnow realized. “It might be the only thing keeping your bones from moving too much... This is going to be a hard shift, Sir.”

“Yeah, I gathered that. Well, it can’t be worse than a broken nose. At least I can breathe.”

“You did a shift with a broken nose?” a guard asked in wonder.

“I took a stone to the face to protect the Duke from protesting miners, a few years ago. I was losing so much blood that the Duchess got a fright at my sorry sight,” he chuckled at the memory. “She requisitioned her whole family’s handkerchiefs in an attempt to stop the bleeding. The weather was so hot that it just wouldn’t stop. Aramis Stilton took pity on me and summoned his doctor, who wrapped my nose in a poultice.” He used his uninjured fingers widespread to show how much space it took. “Now, imagine me standing behind the Duke with a nose like a potato, having to breathe by the mouth while flies were attracted by the poultice’s smell.” As the guards chuckled, he added: “That was the most miserable day of my life in the Guard. It got me a promotion, but still.”

They took turns recalling the worst anecdotes of their carriers, the girl in their midst nearly forgotten while she soaked up their stories with interest.

When Deirdre finally came back, breathless after running, Billie was perfectly fine and showed it by smiling at her comfortingly.

Relieved, Deirdre held out a bottle of pills to Corvo, saying: “The apothecary said no more than six a day.”

“Thank you, Deirdre, that’s perfect,” he replied, accepting the bottle before pausing, staring at the lid. “Can I trouble you with the…?” he asked Curnow, who immediately nodded and took the bottle from him.

“Of course. One or two?” 

“At this point, give me two.”

Deirdre tried to give him some coins back, but he shook his head as he accepted the pills handed out by Curnow and swallowed them dry. “Keep them.” He choked a little and Curnow offered him a bottle of water.

“Can we go now?” Billie asked impatiently while Corvo drank mouthfuls of liquid.

“Watch your tongue, girl,” a guard growled in warning. 

“It’s fine, go ahead,” Corvo agreed before turning to the guards. “We have to check the perimeter.”

When Corvo looked back, the girls were already turning a corner.

oOo

It wasn’t rush hour yet when Corvo stepped into the Hound Pits pub, and he managed to find the man he was looking for without too much trouble. Paolo was sitting in one of the booths with another man in a red coat, but the booths on each side were filled with two very different types of men: on Paolo’s side, thugs, Paolo's thugs, and on the other side some people Corvo would have called whalers if they weren’t giving the same dangerous vibes as gang members. 

Corvo was smart enough to understand his friend was in a meeting, and he stopped a few steps away, waiting to be noticed. Paolo’s partner was the first to do so. His gaze was sharp, and his stern face marked on the right side, facing the wall. He gave off an air of authority and charisma, which led Corvo to peg him as a gang leader of importance. 

Glad to have forgone his uniform for simple Serkonan clothes, Corvo nodded politely and briefly.

Paolo was already standing as he welcomed him cheerfully in Serkonan: “Corvo! So you managed to find some time to see me, my friend. Good to see you!”

They kissed each other on the cheeks, unbothered by the Dunwallers’ glance — why this particular Serkonan custom puzzled them so much was none of their concern. 

“I couldn’t miss the opportunity to check on you,” Corvo replied, “but I see I’m interrupting. I can wait, if you’d just tell me what to order in the meantime.”

Paolo laughed and patted his shoulder. “As wise as always! My best advice: stay away from the wine. The local beer or the Dunwall whiskey are your best bet, depending on your mood. And if you’re peckish, they’re famous for their blood ox stew, but don’t hurt yourself by trying their blood sausage,” he said before glancing to his previous interlocutor, “am I right?”

The man in red snorted and replied in Serkonan: “It’s not worth the name.”

Corvo chuckled. “Duly noted.” He nodded one last time and went to order a beer at the bar. While he had some free time, he was on duty tonight. After sitting on a stool alone for a few minutes, one of the gang members looking like a whaler came to sit by his side.

“Hi,” he said with a Morley accent, leaning forward with his forearms on the counter, “you just arrived from Serkonos, right?”

“Is it that obvious?” Corvo asked with a raised eyebrow.

“You have a suntan that Paolo lost months ago.”

“Ah, I was wondering why he looked like flour.”

The man, who was ten shades paler than Paolo could ever become, smirked at the joke goodnaturedly. “I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions about home. The boss comes from there, but he isn’t really chatty, you know.”

“And you’re trying to win him over?” Corvo asked, amused.

“Well, you know how it is when the boss isn’t in a good mood…”

Corvo hummed in understanding. The Duke was a good man, but his sons didn’t have his temperance, and dealing with their moods could indeed be cumbersome. “I suppose you tried Cullero Cigars?”

“Man, it’s our saving grace!” The Morley man laughed softly, the sound barely leaving his throat. “And before you suggest it, the boss rarely drinks and none of us can really cook.”

“Shame on you,” Corvo snorted. “The way to a Serkonan’s heart is through his stomach, did no one tell you that?”

“It’s Dunwall here. No one has taste buds, it’s survival.”

“That would explain a few things.” Corvo glanced at the menu hung on the wall. None of it appealed to him. It was no wonder that the stew was Paolo’s recommendation when it sounded like the only thing edible.

“Seriously, how do you deal with your boss? Any tip?”

“I leave them to enjoy their vices in peace and stay out of their way.”

“Oh, did they try the Golden Cat yet?”

Corvo sighed heavily. “It’s on the list for the evening. Why? You tried it?”

“Nah, it’s too expensive for me, but I heard their baths are great. You might get to try it.”

“I don’t think so,” the bodyguard replied simply. His evening would be silent surveillance and not much else.

“Kent.”

The man in red hadn’t raised his voice as he stood up from the booth, but his call was sufficient to immediately get Corvo’s neighbor on his feet. 

“Enjoy Dunwall,” Kent said before following his group toward the door. 

Once they were alone in the street, Daud asked: “Anything?”

“He’s tight-lipped, but they’ll indeed be at the Golden Cat tonight.”

“Good.”

oOo

Sighing in lassitude, Corvo rubbed the dressing which kept his left hand immobilized and tried to cheer himself up by remembering that at least he could sit in a comfortable armchair. That was one benefit of The Golden Cat and its luxuries. 

Claudia, his lieutenant, was pacing in the hallway in front of the door to the room sheltering Luca Abele’s… celebrations. They were all grateful for the brothel’s thick walls.

Used to guard the Duke himself, his team was rather displeased with the change of habits they had to deal with, but Theodanis had insisted that his sons should have the best protection possible as long as they were away from home. Corvo couldn’t say who was more displeased by the assignment: his team or Luca himself, who had to deal with one of the rare guards who didn’t fear him and could afford to go against his orders. As a favorite of Theodanis, Corvo was aware he had more leeway than most.

To be honest, Corvo could care less about Luca as long as he didn’t hurt anyone. The eldest son of the Duke was a lost cause, the worst kind of bully and aristocrat, and if he died because of his excesses, it wouldn’t be a big loss. 

The youngest, Radanis, was a more complex matter. He wasn’t a bad man per se, but he was too easily influenced by his brother, too afraid and subjugated, too meek. He could be the sweetest man in a good company or a pawn in a cruel man’s game. 

They weren’t the best heirs for Serkonos’ duchy, but Radanis could learn and thrive with the right guidance. That’s why Corvo had no qualm about keeping a sharper eye on him than his elder. He was sitting right in front of the door to the smoking room where Radanis was enjoying much simpler pleasures, and the bodyguard was determined to not let anything slip past him. 

A scream of fright came from the Gold Room, and every guard stood up in full alert. Corvo gestured for a man to stay in front of the smoking-room before following Claudia as she stepped in, calling for Luca. 

It was too late. He was lying naked, eyes-wide-open with foam at the mouth. The courtesans and nobles who had shared the room were unscathed, and yet there was little doubt that this wasn’t a natural death. An assassination. A successful one. On Corvo’s watch.

This was going to cost him.

oOo

The days since Luca’s death had been a roller coaster. He had to deal with a hysteric Radanis and a livid Empress, and then he had to write to the Duke Theodanis while preparing the corpse to be shipped back to Serkonos. It had left him washed out.

And then, they had received an answer from the Duke.

Corvo was ordered to stay in Dunwall and lead the investigations of the City Watch to find the culprits of his son’s assassination. It was clear that he wouldn’t be welcomed back without the assassins. As rumors suggested it was the work of the famous and elusive Daud, the Grand Guard, and the City Watch had both agreed that this was akin to exile for him and all looked at him with pity.

Corvo refused to surrender so easily.

Just because nothing was known about the Knife of Dunwall apart from his name and its heretic methods didn’t mean that he could find nothing. 

Three months after the assassination, he still investigated. He was pretty much on his own, although he could ask for the City Watch’s support on a whim since the Empress had insisted he should receive all help necessary. He worked better alone anyway. If he had to find a ghost, he had to become one himself. 

Having completely forgone his uniform to blend in Dunwall’s seedier districts, Corvo kept his eyes and ears open for heretics like an Overseer’s hound.

Wandering through the dull and wet streets of Dunwall, Corvo missed Serkonos and its warmer, more colorful towns. He was running after a ghost in the land of mist. How fitting.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on my sideblog for videogames: http://ashkaarishok.tumblr.com/


End file.
